Mors Chartula
by Malevolent Mind
Summary: Misa dropped an apple in Harry's hand. His gaze did not falter from her face as he bit into the fruit, juice dripped down his lips. His taste buds surprisingly activated under the taste. It was as if all the weight was lifted off his brain, his head felt lighter and suddenly he could concentrate, the world cleared. Harry felt his grin stretch wide. "Delicious."Shinigami-Harry
1. Chapter 1

A small shrunk black notebook… it laid innocently in Harry's hands, automatically enlarging. It was of simple design; one that he may have even ignored, if not for the Latin words scripted across its front. Mors Chartula _… Death Note._ Shinigami-Harry, Master of Death, _Harry/Misa/Light love triangle._

 **Chapter One:**

Chains rattled in the darkness. Hot breath rasped across Harry's neck. Three sharp claws traced circles over his belly, inducing shivers of excitement and instinctual fear.

"Just let me die." He whispered feverishly. He was alone. Frozen in time, damned by Death to stay young forever as the world spends on. Evolving… Growing… Changing…

He was hundred and eighty the first time he had tried to end his life. He refused to call it suicide. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. He had lived his natural lifespan. He hadn't taken the potion in desperation or despair. At least he hadn't the first time.

Glowing eyes blinked only to reappear throughout Harry's vision like a sea of red stars. Metal gleamed and the white colour of Death's many teeth shone.

"Wizard, do you no longer wish to be my Master?" It said.

" I never asked to be immortal."

"Play a game with me, Wizard." A light appeared before them. "And I will give you a chance at freedom." The light dimmed and a thin black notebook floated towards him.

"My life is not some silly game."

"So serious for one so young—"

"I have lived for two centuries!"

"Foolish Wizard, you are young, whether you believe so or not and _time_ is a game children play well." An arm reached out from the darkness and brushed his hair from his head. "Entertain me."

"And if I refuse."

"The only thing wrong with immortality is that it tends to go on for forever. I have patience. Do you?"

Harry pressed his tongue against the back of his front teeth. "What game?"

"The Master of Death cannot die, at least not where you currently reside. But there is a place where my servants may move on. I could take you there."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed together. "And this is where you insert _but,_ I assume."

It chuckled. "Any game worth playing has a level of luck."

"I'm old enough to understand that there's a difference between a gamble and a calculated risk. Which are you offering me?"

"Both. What do you say _Master_? Will we play?" It extended a hand out as if to shake.

Harry grasped the hand firmly. "Tell me what to do."

It chuckled madly. "And where would be the fun be in that."

A sinking sensation of dread pooled into his stomach before the world blurred.

… Mors Chartula…

Harry opened his eyes. Darkness bled with neon lights. Car fumes and the scent of trash lingered heavily in the air. Droplets of half frozen water melted on the sidewalk. He blinked. Where was he? He shook his head as he attempted to clear his thoughts. He couldn't quite remember. The harder he tried to grasp, the further the memory seemed to fade.

The only thing he did know was that his legs ached and that his whole body felt weak. Wobbling down the street, he followed the swoosh of muggle vehicles and the glow of flickering lights.

He reached for his wand. Patting his chest, he searched pockets before he reached into his Auror robes. There was no wand but a foreign object that he couldn't recall.

A small black notebook… it laid innocently in his hands, automatically enlarging.

It was of simple design; one that he may have even ignored, if not for the Latin words scripted across its front.

"Mors Chartula _… Death Note."_

The image sparked a memory. Death. Their deal... their game.

With shaking fingers he forced the notebook open. The inside of the book was empty; it was just plain white paper.

Harry scoffed before slamming it shut and pocketing it. What rubbish.

Harry wondered around in a daze. He was fairly sure that he wasn't in Britain anymore. Foreign faces whispered. Harry looked at his reflection from the dirty waters puddling together across the asphalt. He must have looked strange dressed in long crimson robes, trousers, and dragon hide boots.

Outside a small run-down café, Harry sat at the corner table and wondered how long it would be before someone would ask him to leave. Even though only an hour had passed, Harry had learned a lot. He wasn't in England. He wasn't even in Europe anymore but Japan. He watched with wide eyes as he listened to the café music that he knew he shouldn't be able to understand but the words seemed to be able to decode slowly in his brain. Like a puzzle that came together under careful observation.

A pair of high school boys walked towards him. They paused in front of his table and continued to chat. Eyebrows furrowing together Harry wondered why they would choose to talk so close to him. Until the closest one moved to sit down, right on his lap. In his panic, he attempted to move. But he didn't feel the weight of another person; only a rush of cold air. Harry's muscles tensed as his breath caught in his throat. He was sitting on the chair. The boy was sitting on the chair. Their bodies were merged together and yet still separate. It was as if a watercolor painting with layers of paint toppled on each other, only his limbs and head peeking through.

Harry pushed forward and looked down at the pair that had stolen his table.

"Did you hear about that family?" The first boy said.

"Yeah, I hear only the girl survived."

"What is going on?" Harry muttered. He waved his hand in front of the boy's face. Neither one glanced his way, only continued to talk to hushed tones.

"They live only two streets down from my house."

"No one is safe anymore."

Harry backed away from the boys slowly and walked right through another person. A young woman who was trying to hand out flyers waved a colorful pamphlet right through his middle. He slipped and landed on the ground. Staring up from the sidewalk, he sat in shock as the crowd of people continued to walk on with no notice to how each person walked through his skin, stepped on his hand and rushed through his head.

It was as if he were a ghost. But he hadn't died, had he? A cold sense of dread crept into his stomach. What if Death had tricked him? What if this was what he had meant by passing on? Words were fickle things.

"No… No… I just have to figure out _Its_ game. Rules… What are the rules?" His fingers threaded through dark hair.

He continued onward. Maybe he was only invisible to muggles? Maybe he just needed to find a wizard or witch? He walked through the crowded streets and contemplated his predicament as yet again another muggle walked through his body. It was unsettling to experience another going through him as if he were not even there. Testing his translucent state he walked towards a wall. He only blinked as he faded through it.

He had sat on the café chair. Why could he walk through a wall?

His hand went to touch the brick excepting it to go through but Harry still longed to feel it. His hand pressed firmly against it. He had wanted to sit on that chair and so he had. Strangely it reminded him of his childhood magic. But when he tried to touch a living thing no matter how hard he tried or how hard he wanted to, his hand only met cold air. He was trapped in the land of the non-living and the dead.

The sun began to settle. He attempted a small wandless warming charm as but it was as if he hit a wall. The street lights began to flicker on.

His hand clenched as he concentrated hard.

"Lumos," He whispered. The sun only dimmed further behind the towering skyscrapers.

Harry shook his head. He knew that wandless magic had never been his forte but this was something different. Something had changed. Something was missing… warped inside him. He had felt nothing. No warmth, no tingle of magic, just an empty sense of numbness.

His magic was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

Harry sat on a bench at a public park that had only become his favorite due to the man who sat next to him. A man who was at least in his forties, unemployed and homeless. These were not the reasons why Harry had found this man interesting.

"It looks like it's going to rain again. I guess we're going to need to find a place to stay." The homeless man leads against the wall and coughed. His whole frame shaking.

Harry flashed him a smile. "Yeah, you think that building in block 62 will be empty or do you think the cops will raid it again."

"62 or 57…. Fucking cops."

"You're so predictable my friend."

The man didn't reply but simply stared ahead silently. Harry knew that his company was less than ideal. But after wandering the streets of Japan for a month alone, he was less than picky.

Those first few weeks had slowly ticked by. The silence of his own voice had quickly eaten away at his own mind. With the realization that his magic was gone, he had started to doubt his own existence.

Was he alive…dead? A shade? A wraith?

No one could see him. No one could hear him. He could pass through walls as easily as human flesh. The pain of hunger had disappeared, yet the desire to taste food had not. But if he tried to grasp even a simple piece of food, it would slip through his fingers. It seemed anything that was once alive was out of his reach.

No matter how many days that he had spent searching, he had not found any proof that he was truly alive. Death was cruel. Lying awake at night he would stare at the stars and try not to think. His focus stranding as he tried to concentrate on his breath and not on the world around him. Inhaling through his nose. Concentrating on that subtle pause –one, two, three— exhaling through his lips –one, two, three—, over and over again until the sun would blink lazily over the horizon. He could not sleep, only rest and try not to think.

He had only found Aoto by pure luck. The homeless man stood and slowly made his way down the street. Harry walked by his side, at least he had the last week.

"You should find something to eat," Harry commented carefully as they neared a sandwich shop that he now knew sometimes would give the last days sandwiches away.

The man remained quiet except for the periodic coughing fit until they were passing the shops windows. "Closed on Mondays." He grumbled.

"Damn, I forgot. I wish I could help. I really do." Harry sighed.

The sound of rubber burning across pavement pulled his head towards the road in time to see a motorcycle and body scraping across the pavement, left in the wake of a sports car that never slowed down but increased in speed as it fled. The urge to follow was strong. A sickening thought crawled up and attached itself to his thoughts. Nothing he did matter. He was a helpless bystander, only able to watch wordlessly.

Aoto was running now. Running towards the fallen man and appeared to try muggle CPR on him. Harry stepped forward intending to follow before his vision blurred. The sound of chains rattling and the warmth of hot breath froze his legs. _Death._ Harry clenched his hand tightly over his palpitating heart, eyes dilating as the world seemed to shift, and red digits began to appear. His _Death Note_ grew warm in his breast pocket before the strange sensation stopped and he was left with the sound of sirens and the whisper of people murmuring.

Harry turned towards the crowd that had gathered on the busy streets. A series of red numbers floated above each and every head with a name to match each face. In his panic, he strode towards Aoto. He knew that he couldn't touch him but somehow being near the man helped him breathe.

Harry blinked and looked down at his only friend. CPR didn't seem to be working. The man's chest continued to rise and fall, more slowly with each breath. The red digits above the dying man's head were decreasing at a fast rate. The last numbers slowly ticked away until there were none.

The man's chest did not rise again.

His mind froze and he tried to reject the connection of the numbers to the death. They couldn't be. Aoto just continued to pump the man's chest.

Harry whispered, "Aoto, Aoto, Aoto…"

The man ignored him. "Don't you give up, don't you give up on me!"

Harry watched helplessly as Paramedics dismissed Aoto and placed the dead man on a stretcher. The homeless man tensed before turning away towards the back alley that Harry knew would take them to the place where he usually slept.

"You tried, you hear me. You did more than any of those other people. They just stood and stared with their phones recording."

The man only walked faster. In silence, they headed towards the abandoned building. Aoto pulled out a sleeping bag from a trash can and started lining the floor with cardboard before lying on it. Harry knew it was to keep the cold from seeping through the fabric. Not that it worked well. It turned his stomach to watch. Knowing that human beings suffered so. People, good people who simply hadn't had their fair shake could be summited to such hard living conditions.

Aoto rolled over to his side and looked in Harry's direction. "Why doesn't anything we do ever matter?"

Harry's jaw tightened. "I know how you feel. Don't see uncertainty was a sign of weakness. Uncertainty is the only sign of humanity I have left." Harry had never felt more helpless than in that moment as he watched the man silently cry.

Harry looked up above Aoto's head. He blinked and read the words above his head. _Aoto Nomura_. Red numbers gleamed back, slowly clicking away.

He leaned closer. The numbers slowly decreased by the second. Harry stood up and kneeled before his only friend. He tried to wipe away the numbers as if he could somehow change them. His fingers only glided through the empty air.

… Mors Chartula…

"Gealus, going to the human realm will not help. She will still die." Rem gripped the shoulder of the Shinigami that had caught her interest lately.

"I have to see the reason why," Gealus said.

Rem watched as Gealus descended into the realm of the living.

"Do not be long, lest you catch the eye of our King." Rem whispered before settling on the ground. Curiosity had long trapped her. She had to see what unfolded.

… Mors Chartula…

The buildup of fluid in Aoto's lungs combined with his malnourished state had taken his life. Harry was alone. The world was gray. Mind numbingly he continued forward through the crowd. People smiled and chattered. The smell of baked goods, fish, and fresh produce lingered heavily in the air. Yet, Harry had never found a place duller, numb, and hollow.

He didn't belong here amongst the living. Yet as he walked through the crowds, he paused. A flutter of color and the flash of cameras caught his attention. What seemed to be a movie set laid out across the park. A young woman with red lips and blonde hair stood under a sakura tree that spilled pink blossoms around her pale form. Though it was not this woman that he was focused on, but the shadow that followed her.

Harry felt his presences expand. The empty ache inside his chest began to fill as he stared at a monster. He felt alive.

A doll-like creature, patched together with mismatched fabric and a metal zipper for lips followed the model. Despite the monster having two eye sockets, only one eye remained and it watched the woman with intensity.

Harry grinned. Monster or not, Harry had never felt so close to home.

The following days Misa Amane's monster was all that was on Harry Potter's mind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

"She looks so full of life. I wonder why today. It's… it's just not fair."

"Her numbers are running out," Harry whispered from behind.

"You can… see me?" It looked above Harry's head. The place Harry realized must have had his own death date. "I don't understand. You're human. Not a Shinigami?"

Slowly, the words translated. Gods of death…. Master of death. This term of phrase ringed true from deep within his conscious.

"A Shinigami? Is this why no one can see me, hear me?" Harry clutched the creature's robes. "Are you a servant of Death? Please, you must tell me. Am I dead? Alive?"

A man's voice cut through the night. "Misa!"

"Let me go. I must see the reason why!" The monster sputtered.

Harry and the creature looked at a man only a hands reach away. A knife gripped tightly in his hand.

"She's dying. The numbers never lie. There is nothing you can do." Harry said. He knew all too well.

"Let me go." It shrieked. Harry only tightened his grip on the monster as it struggled against him. He had been alone for too long. He couldn't _let go_. He had to know if this creature knew Death. Beneath their struggle of breath, the man's voice continued.

"I would be a good boyfriend. I'll treat you like a queen." The voice was unnaturally high-pitched, full of frantic energy.

"I'm sorry. I don't even know you." The girl replied.

"I love you more than anyone else in the world. I always want to… I want to protect you forever!"

But the girl just slowly backed away. "I need to get home." Her voice full of uncertainty and yet her rejection was clear.

"Why?"

"Please, I really need to get home."

"…If I can't have you… I'll kill us both!"

Metal teeth bite Harry's arm. "Shite!" He gasped as his grip loosened.

The stalker rushed towards the woman, slashing his knife. The world slowed as the sound of the girl's screams blurred with the sound of flesh ripping.

"Why did you make me hurt you? I only wanted to be your man. Why don't you understand?" The stalker said as he stood over the bleeding woman.

The creature kneeled on the ground, a black book laid across the pavement. Harry looked over its shoulder at the blank page. It had written the man's name on the page.

Confusion rattled Harry's thoughts.

A sudden gasp and the rasping of breath broke his attention. Harry looked up. The madman had dropped the knife, his fingers were white and clenching at his chest.

The excessively large amount of numbers above the man's head scattered and broke. Harry watched the human die.

"How… How did you do that? No one can cheat Death..."

The mismatched fabric felt brittle beneath his fingertips. The single eye was filled with unshed tears before the image of the creature blurred and dispersed.

A cloud of something that was neither sand nor dust covered his robes.

Harry dropped his hands. The creature was fading. His first clue to finding peace…the first thing that could truly see him, hear him and talk back to him, was fading. It was _dying_ …

This couldn't happen. He had been so close. Even a malformed mouth and single monstrous eye were better than nothing. He couldn't stand the silence anymore and yet the monster had been gifted the very thing he longed for. _Death_.

He was left shaking with a coat of powder lining his clothes. The only thing that remained solid was the small black notebook. A notebook that did not look like his and yet was an exact copy. The strange language that was scripted on the front shifted under his gaze. Symbols slowly clearing… Death Note.

Trembling fingers gripped the binding as he looked at the last piece of evidence. No feelings of hope or doom came down upon him as he stroked the monster's notebook's lettering. No, it was simple, light, normal and boring… yet he held it warily.

A gurgled breath caught his attention. Standing up he slowly walked towards the model that was crumpled on the ground slowly dying. He had seen her numbers. He had even assumed her upcoming death to be the reason that the creature had followed her. To kill her, devour her but the monster's strange… affection… for the girl had been unexpected. Red digits highlighted his vision.

No… That couldn't be right. They should be slowly ticking to nothing. They weren't. It was as if he was watching the odometer of a vehicle click backward.

It was a _lie_ … No one could cheat death. Yet, the woman's chest continued to rise and fall. Aoto had died. She should be dead. He knew somehow the monster was involved. Somehow it had cheated. Somehow it had died.

He walked towards the girl, each step painfully slow. Misa Amane's crying echoed throughout the alleyway. Her eyes were open and unseeing as he looked down at her. Still invisible. He opened the book and glanced down at the page. The killer's name was written clearly across the page. The very limited rules that Harry had thought he had come to understand were breaking… breaking in front of him.

The notebook dropped to the earth.

Hope… He never wanted to feel it again. He wanted nothing to do with the creature that had stolen his last glimmer of it. Harry turned away, to escape. The light from the main street only brightened with each step. At the opening of the street, a small voice echoed through him.

"Help me." The woman who had cheated Death still lay against the pavement. In her struggle of breath, pale fingers had brushed over the plain black cover. Harry looked around but besides the dead stalker, he was the only one here. He looked back into her red-rimmed eyes. Their gazes met. He froze. Time seemed to slow. The woman was all he could see.

"Help me." She whispered again.

Harry took a step forward. Her tear filled gaze followed. It was surreal.

"It hurts."

Harry kneeled before her. "Shh… it's okay. I'm here."

But he could do nothing. The state of his existence still cursing him. Her pale fingers reached out to grab his wrist. Harry sighed and waited with sad eyes to see her fail.

Warm fingers gripped tightly at his wrist. Harry took a sharp inhale as the familiar warmth of another flooded his senses.

"My phone, it's in my purse." She coughed. However, reluctant he was to leave her touch, he pushed away and attempted to pull her cell from her purse. He could touch it! He fumbled to open it and looked at a screen with complete confusion. He had, of course, used a land line before however, the device in his hand was not that. How did you call people with this thing? In desperation, he thrust the phone into her hands.

"Call for help. You must call."

Bloody fingers brushed the screen. Harry only let his shoulder relaxed when he heard her gasp her location to the emergency despatcher.

He sat in the back of an ambulance as a medic applied pressure to the knife wound. Time sped around them. Sirens, the rush of people and the beeping of a hospital machine flooded his mind.

In the corner of Misa Amana's hospital room, Harry haunted. He watched with keen interest as her manager came and visited every day. Even the police and yet, not one friend or family member. He wondered if her limited guests were due to the attack and yet her lack of family was somehow upsetting for Harry, who knew the pain of having none.

Days passed before Misa awoke again. Standing above her, Harry gentle stroked her face. Light brown eyes fluttered open and Harry dropped his hand as if it burned. The pain killers had not worn off yet and she just smiled up at him warmly. The doors opened and three people entered. He pressed his finger to his lips.

"Shhhh."

She attempted to giggle and reached for her own lips. Harry faded through the wall and watched through the window.

"Misa, Misa Amane? Can you hear me?" The nurse called. "I'm nurse Suechi. I'm going to check your vitals."

"Can you remember anything?" A police officer asked.

Her face downcast, she gripped the white sheets close before she shook her head no.

"That's understandable. We know this is a lot but if you can remember any more information this could help the case. If that man was the only one."

"Wait," Misa whispered. "Misa remembers something… There was a young man. He had almost glowing green eyes. He saved me."

"Glowing eyes… Saved you?"

"He grabbed my phone and helped me call you."

"I'm sorry but on our phone records, you made that phone call. There was no other voice or person there."

"But…" She seemed unsure. "I know there was someone else there." She turned to where Harry had just been standing by her bed.

"You lost a lot of blood."

… Mors Chartula…

Harry watched Misa inside her small home. He understood now. The home was clearly Misa's family and yet no one lived here. Misa stood in front a wall that held clipping of her parent's murder. And a single word that seemed to be plastered randomly throughout the wall.

 _Kira_

"My parents were murdered in front of me as well."

Misa turned around, nearly dropping the notebook in her haste. "Stay away. I'll scream." As they stared at each other from across the room her panic slowly subsided. "Your eyes. I remember you. You helped me."

"Yes," Harry said simply.

"Who are you?"

"Harry. Just Harry."

"Hari, huh…" She rolled his name across her tongue as if tasting it.

A wide grin spread across his face. He couldn't help it, too many months had passed since he had heard his name from another. "You have my notebook."

Misa perked up at the mention of the notebook. "It belongs to you?"

"Yes."

"Your notebook is very interesting. It has a list of names in it. The last person on that list was the name of my stalker. Why did you write his name?"

Harry fumbled. "Uhh… It's kind of hard to explain."

"Well, explain this then. Why are all the people in this notebook dead, all of heart attacks?" She neared, an excited skip in her step.

"What? I think you're mistaken. Dead… heart attacks..." The Latin scribe slowly became clearer. _Death note._ He had seen it work and yet the idea that simply writing a name on a piece of paper could rob a person of their life was hard to accept.

She giggled. "Oh don't worry. Misa isn't upset." She walked up to him and shyly looked up. "I would have never imagined in a million years that Kira would be so young and handsome!"

Harry tried to back away. Confusion raddled his mind. Kira? The word slowly unwinding in his mind.

Killer…

"I am _not_ a murderer."

"Oh, course not. You're justice."


End file.
